Till The Small Hours
by KickingRoses
Summary: Vince's friends abandon him in town where he's found by a gang of bullies. Will Howard arrive to save him in time? *cue tense music* Rated T just for swearing, violence detail but nothing to graphic.
1. Part One

**A/N: This was originally gonna be a one-parter but somehow turned into two long drabbles in my insomnia. Hence insomnia so if I've made mistakes I'm soz, my scanning eye is knackared. It's angst-central though softens a little bit in the next part. The italic parts are Vince's pov but they're just in dialogue so they're confusing, coz is Vince is blind drunk so you basically get to know how he feels :P Reviews are Love! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mighty Boosh; Barratt & Fielding, Baby Cow, God and whoever else do. But moi. So please don't sue me coz I'm skint.**

* * *

**Part One**

"'_Ey, Vince. Mate. Vince. Vince!"_

"_Earth to Noir. You there? Helloooo! Vince?"_

"…"

"_Bloody hell. He's really out of it. Callum, man, what did you give him to drink?"_

"_Just a load of those freaky cocktails he always likes. A couple of flirtini's. A few shaguerite's."_

_"Shagurete's?" _

"_Don't ask. His own recipe apparently. Sent it around to every bartender in London to learn off by heart. God knows what's put in there."_

"_Guys, he's getting really bad 'ere. It's like some sort of freak out. Vince!"_

"…_."_

"_Nothin'. Think we should take him to hospital?" _

"…_M'no…No…"_

"_Vince?!"_

_"No 'ospital…no…H'ward…Wan' H'ward…"_

"_Think that's probably best actually. Anyone got Howard's number?"_

"…"

"_I'll look on Vince's mobile. Alright, Vince? Vince, we're gonna call Howard, alright? We're gonna get him to take you home, mate, ok?"_

"_Mmm…Home?"_

"_That's right, mate. Home sweet home."_

"_But…still havin' fun…we're still havin' fun, ain't we?"_

_"Yeah it's been great fun, Noir. Brilliant as always. You're a party legend, you know that."_

"_M'pretty good, yeah…"_

"_Thing is though, mate, we're gonna go to another club now. Opening night. Meant to be amazing. And we just don't think you're up to it."_

"_Yeah, I am…Wanna go. M'gonna go…"_

"_You're out of it, Vince."_

_"M'fine! Look, I'm just fine, see-"_

"_No way we gonna get into the club if he's with us."_

"_Yeah, Vince, you don't wanna spoil it for the rest of us, do you?"_

"…"

"_That's it, mate. Now give us your phone and we'll get your buddy Moon here, alright?"_

"…"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Howard let out a grunt as he was woken from his slumber by the phone ringing. He had been zonked out on the sofa after an intense hour of jazzercising to his John Coltrane LP. The one he'd only just managed to buy that very afternoon after two years of saving since Vince broke his old one after thinking he was dead. He'd been gawping in its unexplainable yellow aura since its delivery and had wanted to put to good use immediately. Much to the annoyance of his roommate who'd sought escape by going on a pub-crawl with his mates. Even before Howard stood up to answer the phone, his intuition told him it would be something to do with Vince. The facts were all there.

It was half three in the morning.

Vince was out.

Howard was in.

Vince knew Howard was in.

It all added up to one thing.

Stretching out and letting out a massive yawn as he got to his feet, Howard moved to answer the phone, pressing it tiredly to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ey, y'alright Harry! It's Callum."

"It's Howard actually."

"No, it is Callum."

He suppressed a groan; "No, I'm…never mind. What d'you want, Callum?"

"Well me, Gerry and Luca are here with Vince. But he's a bit worse for wear now. He's too much to handle for one night."

"Is he ok?" Howard's concern instinctively rose, though he wasn't that surprised.

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine! We've been lookin' after him for you." Callum speaks as if reassuring Vince's protective father. "We just don't think he's up for much more. We'd get him a taxi but we don't really 'ave enough money to spare, and we wanna use what we can to get in the club and 'ave some drinks, ya know?"

Howard sighed. He'd knew from before he'd picked up the phone that this was coming. So why he let himself go through that mind-numbing conversation was beyond him. He pinched the bridge of his nose before folding like he always did to being his best friend's chauffer.

"Where are you?"

"Just off the main high street. Along Perkins's Road? Just outside of Woolies."

"Tell Vince I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Cheers Harry! You're a di-"

Howard put down the receiver, not wanting to have to suffer another slurred syllable in his ear from the imbecile. Pulling back his sleeve, he gave his left wrist a quick twist a couple of times with his right hand. His skin was forced to stretch and cry as it threatened to tear. He let his body drink in the red hot stinging sensation before moving across the room to get his jacket and keys from the kitchen work top. All the while screwing up his face in an eternal frown.

His usual nightly ritual. Fall asleep, wake up, answer phone, Chinese burn, and go get Vince, put Vince to bed, Chinese burn, and bed. Same old, same old. He hurt himself as punishment for always letting himself fall under the need to serve Vince's every need. It was bad enough his friend always treated him like some sort of unworthy acquaintance in the daytime. An embarrassment he only put up with to either make himself look even cooler or just out of pity that Howard had no one else. At least that's how the younger man treated him these days.

Not like before. Not like the Vince he'd known back at the zoo. Not like the Vince who'd looked up to him, who'd been spellbound by his superior knowledge and experience, who'd only tease him in a light-hearted way that wouldn't make Howard want to claw the flesh off his arm every night. Not like the Vince who'd spend every night, not out on the lash with random idiots, but in a sleeping bag beside Howard's - the two of them joking, crimping, talking. The both of them talking endlessly until they both succumbed to sleep, they're bodies practically in sync so they didn't leave either one awake alone. Not the Vince whose smile had made his heart to summersaults every time, instead of the cruel and mocking one he was met with these days, that made led him to his pathetic self-flagellation. Howard clutched the keys to the van in his hand. He hadn't even realised he'd just stopped in the middle of the room to just let his mind wonder back to a forgotten time. But not a forgotten friend.

Shrugging on his jacket, Howard tried to picture how his friend was now. The cheeky, innocent, loveable man-child with blonde hair and a zookeeper's jacket dissolved into the smoky silhouette of a skinny, hunched-over, vomit-drenched drag-queen look alike with make-up smeared across his face and his once glistening blue eyes now two grey pits of misery. The very thought of seeing his friend in such a state - again - made his stomach twist dangerously. It was as if some demon, worse than any of the ones in Naboo's book, had taken over his beautiful friend over the past few months and had changed him into a cold-hearted, spiteful shell of a man. And there was no magic strong enough to bring him back.

Howard grunted again as he moved down the stairs. Who was he kidding? There was no such thing as magic. There was witchcraft, the supernatural - but real magic? Nothing but a fairy tale, sir.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Right, Moon's gonna be here to pick him up in about ten minutes."_

"_Ten minutes? It's starting to rain! We gotta get inside the club before it gets packed."_

"_Mmm…"_

"_Vince? Vince, you alright?"_

"_Mmm, wanna go…I wanna go…"_

"_You're goin' home, pal. Your buddy's gonna come pick you up in a little bit."_

"_Ey, Cal. If it's only gonna be ten minutes before the old guy gets here then why don't we just…you know."_

"_What? Leave him 'ere?"_

"_It's an open street, it's not like anything will happen to him. And he don't need us to baby-sit him. Do ya, Vincy?"_

"…_M'not a baby."_

"_Exactly! 'Course you're not. You'll be fine here waiting, won't ya?"_

"_To be honest, I don't really fancy getting a telling off from the geography teacher when he gets here. He's gonna blame us, ain't he?"_

"_Good point. What d'you say, Cal?"_

"_Well I 'spose if…Vince, you ok with us going?"_

"_Mmm?"_

"_I said you ok with us going to the club?"_

"_Oh…uh…yeah, sure…"_

"_Brilliant. You're a treasure, Noir. And we'll leave you 'ere in the doorway so you don't get to wet. Just sit here and your ride will be here in no time. And if the jazz freak gives you lip just tell him to fuck off, yeah?"_

"_Don't…call H'ward that…'E's not a freak…"_

_"Haha! He really must be losing it! See you, Noir!"_

"_Bye Vince."_

"_Take care, mate."_

"…"

"_Gawd, such a lightweight."_

"_Well 'e it ain't like he's like the rest of us, is it? Ain't like e's a proper bloke."_

"_Haha! Yeah. No wonder girls don't hit on us with 'im around, they think we've already pulled."_

"_Guys, he can still 'ear us, we ain't that far away!"_

"_Nah, he probably doesn't even know he's there, the big girl."_

"_Vincent Noir? More like Vanessa Noir…"_

"_Vanessa! Classic, Luca…"_

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…_H'ward?"_

"_Oh my Lord…Oi, boys! Come look at what I've found!"_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The only thing that really separated him from the other cars on the road was that his van didn't have a bright glowing sign on top. Howard was just half way along his journey now. The five minutes of driving through the hazy yellow-tinted darkness of the London streets, the droplets of rain starting to pelt the van harder and harder each minute, had given his initial anger a chance to cool. No doubt it work itself up again once he laid eyes on the electro ponce and had him hurling lary insults at him before puking all over Howard's sweater, then laughing that the colour of his vomit matched the fabric well. And then his mates that gathered around him would join in at one great big fun laugh at sick-covered fool Howard Moon.

Why did he bother going to pick up the reckless little wind-up merchant? He often pondered that to himself as he passed the crowds of drunken, young, hip Vince-Noir-wannabes bouncing along the pavements. If for once Howard had decided to go out, to an actual club instead of just a night visiting Lester Corncrake, and got a bit tipsy and needed Vince to come pick him up - albeit not by a car but perhaps by borrowing Naboo's carpet - would the poof do it? Recent times made that very doubtful. Vince, these days, acted as if his ultimate dream was to have some 'accident' take Howard from his life so he didn't have to deal with him anymore. So he wouldn't have to bother telling the older man to 'nip around the back' whenever some of his mates came into the shop. He wouldn't have to waste any effort saving Howard from the ridiculous and often unbelievable near-death situations he got himself into.

Or maybe that was it. Howard gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove around another corner. Maybe the whole reason he bothered going to pick up Vince from just a night out with one-drink-to-many was a way of paying him back for the times the mod had, admittedly, risked his neck to save him. If that was the case, it made Howard go strangely cold, an odd blackness poisoning his thoughts. He was just in Vince's dept. It wasn't about friendship. What sort of friendship consisted of two people, polar opposites of each other, bickering all day and throwing each other off for shiny capes or new 'cooler' friends? What sort of friends broke each others stuff and advertised the other for prostitution? What sort of friends left each other at the drop of a hat for a chance of fame and then wasted no time in finding a 'replacement' once the other was gone? What sort of friends could only share the same bedroom if it meant never speaking a word to each other and just being eager to get to sleep to end the tension of another day?

Of course he couldn't deny the overwhelming rush of warmth and affection whenever Vince would give him one of his rare, meaningful smiles. Nor could he block out the tingling sensation in the pit of his chest whenever Vince was upset or ill and needed Howard as a support…to be held, hugged, caressed. Moments were Vince would embrace his friend's comfort instead of taking the piss out of the size of his eyes. These being the calm before the storm where Prick Vince would return in all his glory and the affection the boys shared of the night before was forgotten about - except to Howard. He didn't know how the electro boy did it. Sometimes that was the only thing he envied him for. Without a heart, it was impossible for him to be heartbroken. Clever. But what was there to be heartbroken about? The painfully obvious truth of what they had become? Of what they'd never get the chance to be…whatever that was, if Howard's feelings ever decided to present themselves with some clarity to him. Either way, the chances were lost.

It was like a bullet in the brain. Perhaps it was time to just accept it. Maybe they weren't best friends anymore. Maybe they were just room-mates. Co-workers. Acquaintances. It was time to stop pretending there was any of the affection that once made them what they were before.

This ten-minute drive seemed to be lasting for hours. Howard wondered if he'd absent-mindedly taken a wrong turn and was just going around in circles through the same old streets, allowing his agonizing thoughts to mull over and over. As he glanced out the droplet-decorated screen, he noticed the shops, pubs and clubs he passed were beginning to look to familiar for one night. A pang of guilt struck him, in spite of the callous meaning to his new thoughts. Whether he was still his best friend or not, he wasn't doing any favours to his conscience keeping Vince waiting in the rain. Though, knowing Vince, he was probably having more of a laugh waiting and chatting with his 'gang' than he ever would with Howard. His face wouldn't light up like a Christmas tree the way it used to when he saw the jazz maverick appear. Instead his eyes would burn out and he'd regard Howard more as if he were the Grinch who'd just killed Santa. Bah-sodding-humbug!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_What's a matter, darlin? Had a bit to much, 'ave we?"_

"_Cor, pretty little thing ain't she!"_

"_I dunno. Looks a bit freaky to me. Like that Pete Burns guy."_

"_Nah, this one's prettier then Burns, aren't ya gorgeous?"_

"_Leave me alone!"_

"_Ey, she does speak!"_

"_She? Sounded more like a geezer to me. What the fuck are you meant to be anyway, Freak?"_

"_Mmm…"_

"_What was that, love? Didn't quite catch that-"_

"_I said m'Vince Noir - Rock'n'Roll star…And you can go fuck yourselves!"_

"_Oooooh! Listen to her, lads? I like 'em when they're all fiery."_

_"You don't usually like 'em male though, Tone?"_

"_True, not usually - but I think we can all make an exception for this one. She obviously wants it, making 'herself up like that, like some cheap little whore."_

"_Can't say I'll make a fuss."_

"_What d'you say, sweetheart? You look like you need some lookin' after. Don't worry, we won't hurt ya. We'll be gentle…at first."_

"_Get away from me, you benders!"_

"_We ain't the benders, love; you're the one making yourself up for the guys. Now c'mon, don't make this too difficult-"_

"_You touch me and I'll 'ave ya, you nonce!"_

"…"

"_Bloody 'ell, Tony! You almost knocked his head off."_

"_Maybe now the little bitch will know to keep his mouth shut. We don't want that face to get even more messed up, do we?"_

"_Let me go! Let me go!"_

"_Keep hold of him, boys. Looks like I'm gonna have to teach the little slag a lesson or two."_

"_Not to much though, ey Tone."_

"_Don't worry. There'll be enough left for us all to have fun with, mark my words…"_

"…_."_

"…_."_

"…_."_

"…_."_

"_You had enough yet, bitch?"_

"…_."_

"_I SAID; HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH YET?"_

"…"

"_Awh, look, Tone. I think you've made it cry."_

_"FUCK OFF! I'M NOT CR-"_

"…_."_

_"Wrong answer, slut. This is gonna be very, very fun. Cor, don't the rain make you look even more disgusting? Take him round the back of the shop. We're gonna give this little glitter princess a night she'll never forget."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Haha. Very funny. Hi-fucking-larious.

Howard drove up to the end of Perkins's Road, seeing that not a soul was waiting for him outside the closed Woolworths as promised. The lack of bus-tops or clubs on the road meant that no one was daring to walk the place at this time of night. Even Howard Moon, great daring explorer, felt weary roaming in the darkness, even tucked away inside the safety of the van. There was some bad juju afoot. He could sense it like a twinge in the back of his neck. His weariness was having a fight for supremacy with the irritation surging inside of him at the joke Vince and his friends had obviously played on him.

What a hilarious prank once again. Get old boring Howard up and out in the early hours of the morning, drag him out into the rain and make him drive around - then hide. Well there had once been a time where a game of hide-and-seek with Vince had been something he'd cherished. Back when they were teenagers fooling around as usual. And the small man being indeed so small it was always easier for him to hide himself away from Howard. And the jazz maverick would spend so much time looking for him that it wouldn't be to long before Vince lost patience and would reveal himself, his face bursting with that ever joyful grin that made life seem worth sticking around for. No doubt when he found - if he found - Vince, this time the grins he'd be met with would be with icy mocking laughter from the electro boy and his cronies. Howard was tempted more than ever just to turn the van around the next corner and go back home.

But he didn't. He parked the van by the curb in front of Woolies and reached for his mobile from his trouser pocket. Scrolling down the laughable amount of names in his phonebook, he came to 'Vince Mob' and pressed the button to dial. He put the phone to his ear and prepared to give the conceited little narcissist a verbal beating that would make him think twice about messing with Howard Moon again. The phone kept on ringing. Good! It gave Howard more time to work on what he wanted to say (he wasn't very good at thinking up insults quickly). The phone kept on ringing. Perhaps they'd all gone back to a club together after all and Vince couldn't hear his phone. More ringing. What was the point of these useless inventions? It would've been better if they'd kept one of the homing pigeons from the zoo. At least Howard could've trained the pigeon to peck Vince's eyes out as well as deliver a message. Every ring just heightened his fury at the Camden prince more and more.

And then; a click. Then a serious woman's voice.

**"We're sorry. The mobile you are calling is switched off. Please wait whilst you are transferred to the B.T voicemail service…"**

Howard closed his phone. His brow curved. Vince's phone had clearly been ringing - and then he'd turned his phone off as Howard was calling him. Was this part of the wind-up? It was effective; he gave them that much credit. He could just picture them all laughing their faces off at him. It made him tempted once more to pull back his sleeve and let his arm have it once more.

Once again, he was about to put his keys in the van to start her up again. Then he began to notice a swarm of shadows passing over each other against the wall of the ally beside Woolies. Squinting, he could make out the figures of a bunch of guys in shuffling gathering just around the corner. Vince obviously didn't put the effort into Hide & Seek like he used to. Another endearing part of the mod that had sadly been lost to the effects of time and popularity.

Howard opened the door of the van and stepped out onto the damp pavement. It was still spitting slightly but the worst of the rain had passed, he hoped. Already he could hear laughter. Deep, cold howls of laughter coming from the shadow-infested ally ahead of him. He grit his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides. Once he got his hands on the bony waste of space he was gonna come at him like a beam, like a ray, like a laser, like a…Hang on a minute.

That wasn't Vince's laughter. None of those voices sounded the least bit familiar.

It wasn't the high-pitched giggles of young, hip, tipsy indie kids. It was the thick guffaws of a group of large, butch, leery blokes. As he studied the wall of the ally closer, he saw that the shape of the shadows moving began to fit he voices well. Howard stood stock still in front of the closed shop. In between the roars of laughter, he could just make out the sound of a thudding. As if someone was pounding their fist into an air-tight sack of flour. People didn't hit bags of flour though. Not anyone Howard could think of anyway. It wasn't something practically funny either. Random. Not funny. Especially not to a load of East End wide-boys.

His legs told him to run. Run as fast as he could in the opposite direction and never look back. Run and find his friend and just go home to his nice warm flat. But his legs were rooted to the ground. He couldn't go and intervene. It wasn't his business. He wouldn't stand a chance against a gang of three or four cockney thugs with fists of steel. His chest tightened. What to do? What to do?

He looked down at the mobile still clutched in his hand. An idea shot alight in his mind. He looked onto his list of 'un-cool' ring-tones until he came across the 'Police Siren'. Pressing himself against the sealed door to Woolworths, he took a deep breath before pressing the button and setting off the believable shrieking ring of a cops-car siren ringing throughout the blustery night.

"Shit! The filth are comin'!"

"To hell with this. C'mon, let's get going!"

"See ya, gorgeous. Sorry we didn't get to have more fun with ya."

"She was a laugh, weren't she? G'night Princess!"

Three bulky brutes charged out from the ally and, to Howard's everlasting relief, ran in the opposite direction to the end of the road, not passing Woolies or his little nook of a hiding spot in the doorway. He poked his head around gingerly and watched them stumble away into the night. A surge of contempt rose inside of him. Howard despised people like that. Any man who raised a hand to a woman was nothing but pond-scum in his eyes. Sure he'd been guilty of hitting a woman once…well, twice including the old Bingo woman…and three if you included his coconut wife - but that was just an illusion. Either way, Howard could be sure of himself that he wasn't in the same league as those monsters. He just prayed the real police would come along to lock the creeps away for life and throw away the key. Or that a speeding bus would squash them all and send them straight to burn in Monkey Hell. Well - Chav hell. There can't've been much difference between the two.

Once he was sure the blokes were long gone he turned off the piercing sound from his phone. In spite of his infuriation at the bastards running free, as well as the fear of the situation still remaining somewhat, Howard still allowed himself to feel that rewarding sense of pride. He'd proved himself for once. He, Howard Moon, was a hero. He'd scared away the beasts who'd been terrorising some poor damsel. He couldn't wait to tell Vince…not that he'd believe him. Or care to listen. But this wasn't about impressing the electro ponce. He shook himself out his own vanity. What mattered was that there was a woman who'd just been attacked in an ally way by a group of sociopaths and was in need of aid. He moved away from his hiding spot and began to make his way around to the side of the shop, already fearful of just how hurt the girl was. How long had they been there before Howard had shown up? Was that why Vince and his mates had gone, to fetch help?

Howard peered through the pitch black darkness of the ally. He could just make out the glint of the rubbish bins lining the walls and some tipped over further back. Some shapes were twitching but he couldn't make them out if the thing was living or just an illusion of the dark. He took a tentative step forward as if expecting another band of brutes to spring out from no where and rinse him out like a flannel.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

He cursed himself for not making his voice more suited to that of a valiant hero.

"It's ok. They've gone now. I ain't gonna hurt you, I promise."

A scuffle. A twang of metal as something hit against the side of the rubbish bin.

Howard stepped forward.

"Look, I can help you. You don't have to be scared, it's alright."

"…" A whimper rose uncontrolled from the end of the ally.

"Miss? Are you ok? D'you want me to call an ambulance? Miss? Miss?"

"Howard…"

His stomach dropped. He froze. Time froze.

No.

Please, God, no.

Not him. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Not-

"_Vince?_"

Another high-pitched whimper came in reply. In the distance he could see the moving of a thick scruffy matt of raven hair above one of the fallen rubbish bins.

Oh God. Vince.

Howard bounded forwards at such a speed he tripped over his own feet and stumbled to the floor. After almost crashing to his hands and knees he strung himself back up and continued rushing forwards between the bins, kicking them aside as they dared to get in his path, before tossing aside the one that his friend was sheltering behind. When he finally reached Vince and was able to take in the full picture; his heart cracked in two.

Vince was sat on the filthy, glass, rubbish and piss strewn ally, huddled against the wall as if trying to imprint himself in the bricks, his torn-skinnies clad legs pulled up to his chest. His hands were shaking violently and clutched to his front where Howard noticed they seemed to be uselessly trying to hold together the torn pieces of his tight silk shirt. His frighteningly sorrowful eyes seemed to be focusing on Howard's shins, refusing to raise them up to meet the maverick's looking down on him. His lips were quivering and slightly parted, hushed tiny sobs echoing throughout the ally, linked with the tears on his cheeks, each one a dagger to Howard's chest. Every thought of resentment, contempt or bitterness that he'd previously held for the younger man became forgotten at a moments glance at the sight before him.

He slowly got down on his knees, not giving a stuff about the filth littering the ground and staining his trousers. Even when he got down to Vince's level, the broken boy refused to make eye-contact. Howard stared, lost and confused, into his friend's wide eyes glinting through the darkness. They seemed incapable of blinking. Everything inside the maverick was burning for Vince to say something. Or just to look at him. He'd never seen such…shame in those eyes before. How could he ever be ashamed? He was so perfect. He was beautiful. Even now with…

"Vince?…Oh my god, Vince. What happened?…Vince, what did they do to you?"

No answer. Howard might as well not have said a word.

"Vince. Vince, I need you to talk to me. Are you…Did they _do _something to you?"

Again no answer. The insinuation of what Howard was getting at was clear as day though. And to his everlasting gratitude, Vince slowly shook his head.

Howard let out a silent prayer up to a god he'd never really believed in. "Oh…Oh, Vince…Did they do anything to you? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

He shook his head a little harder this time. Still he remained quiet as the grave. And his eyes were still fixed below his friend's chin.

Howard scanned the small man's body to see if he was being truthful. He used the light on his mobile screen as a torch that he moved over Vince's shivering body. He was covered in engorging marks already forming pulsating mauve bruises along his arms, chest and face. The inside of his mouth had been cut was still leaking a trail of blood from the side of his mouth. There was a nasty cut above his right eye also, allowing a small crimson line to move down to taint his porcelain precious face, not to mention a swelling on his right eye itself. That familiar new sensation of rage at the thugs who'd dared to hurt his friend began to boil again. He wanted to scream. He wanted to smash something - a skull perhaps. He wanted to kill. And he could've done. He was a lot stronger than his usual cowardly instincts allowed him to be. But Vince didn't need anymore violence. All he needed was _him_.

Cuts and scrapes. That's all his wounds were. Nothing life threatening. But the emptiness in Vince's eyes was scaring him more than any deep gaping wound could do. Never so much before had he wanted badly to pull his friend into a hug. Yet at the same time he was afraid to do so in fear of breaking the fragile darling.

"Vince…" He couldn't seem to stop saying his friend's name. Hoping ever more to reach where he was hiding.

He took his face gently in his hands and forced Vince to look at him. He didn't even struggle, and just let Howard move him like a rag doll.

"Vince. Look at me, Vince. Look - at - me."

Vince's eyes were looking straight at his. But it was only when they relaxed, just a tad, that Howard felt his friend was beginning to come back to him. The spell was broken. A strange, distant-longing smile grew on the smaller man's face. As if he'd only just realised the maverick was there.

"Howard…Alright?"

Hearing Vince say his name was the sweetest sound he could hear in a lifetime. His voice, though, barely rose above a whisper.

"Oh, Vince…" Tears spilled from his eyes. He was torn between delight that his friend was speaking and the worry that hit him with the unsettling all-to-casual tone of his speech.

"M'sorry I got you to have to come and get me."

He was saying sorry? _He_ was saying _sorry_?

"S'alright, Vince. You don't ever have to apologize. If you hadn't have called me then…" he trailed off with the thought of the horror contained in that 'what if'. "I'm just glad you're alright."

He pushed the unnecessary images aside and continued dotingly stroking the younger man's cheek.

Vince's face was ice cold beneath his touch. "You're freezing. Here."

Howard took off his jacket and draped it around the younger man's shoulders. It provided much better insulation then Vince's pathetic ripped shirt that he was still holding to hide his disgrace. He let his tense frame relax to let Howard wrap him tenderly in the thick warm jacket. He gave an almost unfamiliar smile of gratitude that made Howard's heart flourish.

"You come to take me home, Howard?"

So pure. So innocent.

"That's right, little man. I've come to take you home. It's all gonna be ok." A sob rising in his throat broke the last three words of that sentence.

"Genius…"

Vince's eyelids finally began to flicker. The shock of the attack was giving way to the exhaustion, trauma and remaining heavy alcohol-influence of before. He swooned jadedly to the side and Howard immediately caught him around the waist. The small man's blouse fell apart as the weak hands released their vice-tight grip and went limp as the rest of his body. He clutched Vince's unconscious body tight to his, drinking in the divine relief of having the most cherished thing in your life back safe in your arms. Both of them were now equally wet from the ever falling drizzle. His hand quickly found his way into the damp black strands of Vince's mane as he hugged his head to his cheek. Not wanting to spend another second in that god-forsaken ally, Howard lifted the electro boy up into his arms - still wrapped up his large jacket like a newborn snuggled in a blanket - and walked out of the darkness and into the empty street.

* * *

**Thanks for reading thus far! Like I said, only a two parter so second part should be up soon. Reviews would really help spur me on though. Pleeeeease. And in the words of Simon Amstell, if you didn't enjoy this part - then you have only yourselves to blame :) Kidding. **


	2. Part Two

**A/N: Thank you soooo much for ALL the amazin' reviews. I honestly thought this was just an over-long drabble I couldn't stop myself with. Which it is. I didn't wanna make this part *as* angsty but I think I somehow did. Damn it. Hopefully the end makes up for it. Or destroys the whole feel of the fic completely. I like to take risks. Either way, it's out of my hands now. :D I should also point out, for anyone whose read Fielding's..._speshul _"Christmas Toy" story, this was kinda inspired by that. If 'inspired' is the right word. It's a metaphor for how I think it should've ended. This is especially dedi's to Hattie (violence4) for her muvva-flippin' essay of a review that this fic was soo not worthy of. She a crazy girl. But I loves her. And are we ever gonna get more of the The Actor's Link, m'darlin? ;)**

**Oh and who wants to join me in the "No, we don't want the Boosh film to be about feckin' Rudi and Spider, thank you boys!" club? Raise your burning torches and pitchforks.**

**Disclaimer: Ugh, no I do not own the Mighty Boosh. Tom Selleck and his Indian wife do. A.k.a Barratt & Fielding. I'm just having some special play-time with my two favourite invisble dolls. I don't fancy getting the real Boosh dolls that are comin' out. Seen 'em and they make me do a sad face. I also don't own Friends. I don't even own the dvds and Vince makes a good point of why that is. The lyrics I've used at the bottom to illustrate my main inspiration for this fic and where I got the title from are the bottom and belong to Matchbox Twenty. Not me.**

* * *

**Part Two**

"_Stop struggling, princess. The more you put up a fight, the more it's gonna hurt - d'you understand that, you stupid bitch? __D'YOU UNDERSTAND?"_

_"What kind of sick excuse for a human bein' are you?" _

_"'E's j__ust a filthy SLUT."_

"_She obviously wants it, making 'herself up like that, like some cheap little whore."_

"_Vanessa? Classic, Luca…!"_

"_Well 'e it ain't like he's like the rest of us, is it? Ain't like e's a proper bloke."_

"_What? Leave him 'ere?"_

"_You and your wife can go on without me."_

_"You're Moon's ugly girlfriend, aren't you?"_

_"Oi! No women in 'ere!"_

_"What the fuck are you 'sposed to be, faggot?"_

"_I won't have drag-queens in my class, Mr. Noir."_

"_Charming daughter you've got there, Russ. You should be proud. Hahaha!"_

"_Why do you have to make me so disgusted with you, Vincent? D'you have any idea how you being like this makes me look!?"_

"_Leave him alone, Russ! He's not done anything wrong."_

"_Not done anything wrong? My own son waltzes around town, in front of all our neighbours and friends, dressed like a…like a….THAT - and you say he's done nothing wrong?!"_

_"He's just being himself. That's what makes him happy."_

"_This is what happens when you cuddle the boy to much. You've turned him into a nancy! He should've gotten more of what he deserves. More of THIS-"_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Vince let out the sixth - or was it seventh? - flinch since having left Perkin's Road. They came in between such long intervals of stillness that Howard had found them easy to count. As he'd drove back through the streets of London, by now which had mostly fallen victim to the spell of the long night's climax, he struggled to keep his focus purely on the road. If he risked putting his mind on anything other than his driving - especially to the broken creature beside him - he knew it would be the same as letting someone place a blindfold around his eyes and leaving the wheel in his hands. There were only a couple of stray cars, presumably taxis, joining them on the road that night, and a large lorry moving at an irritatingly slow rate in front of them. Still wrapped up in Howard's jacket, Vince sat in the passenger seat, his body slightly curled back, his head against the jittering window. For about two minutes he'd go without making a single murmur. Barely even an audible breath, which would worry Howard somewhat before he'd turn to notice the rise and fall of Vince's chest. Not that his injuries were fatal, or even worth going to hospital for, as tempted as Howard was. He'd told Vince he was gonna take him home so that's where they were heading. Vince hadn't uttered a word or fluttered an eyelid since leaving the ally. However, every two minutes or so, he'd let out a sort of tiny animalistic yelp. As if the pain of his wounds was finally catching up to him. The short squeal would come with a sharp wince of his thin body and a tight contortion of his scarred face. Each one came so out of the blue they risked Howard crashing the van in panic. They also spurred him on to get home faster. This drive seemed to be lasting a lifetime longer than it did getting to Perkin's Road.

Finally weaving around the corner in front of Davidson's, it wasn't a moment longer that they were parked in front of the red-painted shaman owned shop. The Nabootique. Home. At last. Vince crashed the stillness with another sharp flinch, this time carried with more a sharp second-long gasp rather then a cry. Howard wasted no time. He unbuckled his seat belt, took out the keys, opened the door, went around the van and opened the passenger door, unbuckling the other seatbelt. All the while Vince remained dead to the world.

Not even considering waking him up, Howard slipped his arms once more under Vince's legs and back, hoisting him up out of the seat. He nudged the door shut with his shoulder. Vince's arms then suddenly found their way out of the warm confides of the jacket and flung them instinctively around Howard's neck. He nuzzled his nose in the crook of Howard's shoulder. A faint troubled mewling sound vibrated from the smaller man as he clung on tight to his protector in his sleep. His hair was ruffling softly against the maverick's neck. Howard didn't know whether his heart was howling in despair or singing with affection.

"C'mon, little man. Let's get you inside."

He carried the light as angel-delight electro boy across the curb and to the door of the shop. He released his arm from Vince's back just for a second to use his keys, being the obsessively cautious man he was and locking the place up before he'd left, his other arm remained holding up the his legs. Vince clung onto Howard's neck even tighter. As if he was terrified his friend wanted to drop him. He'd buried his face further into Howard. Not saying a word. Not opening an eyelid. He only relaxed back again when Howard had finished unlocking, opening, carrying him over the threshold, closing and locking the door again. Only when he put his hand back to hold Vince's back did the smaller man go limp once more, unconsciously placing his full trust in Howard's hold, his arms still loosely tangled around his shoulders.

Thirty two seconds later, Howard had carried Vince through the shop, up the stairs, and was delicately placing him down on the sofa. He positioned his head onto the cushions, moving him carefully as if he were made of bone china, before standing back. A weird reluctant twinge shot through his arms when Vince's body finally left his hold. The warmth of his blood might as well have been chilled by an icy wind. It wasn't important though. He'd succeeded in getting Vince home safe. The night was still far from over though. His friend's wounds were still angrily growing, his cuts still seeping blood, one of his eyes sporting a brutal purple swelling. Nonetheless, as Howard continued looking at Vince, still snuggled tight in the over-sized jacket, his head laid comfortably into the plush orange cushions, he couldn't help notice how…attractive Vince still managed to look. Lying down with his head back, ebony-dark hair framing his white face, rose red made-up lips slightly parted invitingly. Dalston's own Slow White. Howard wondered that if he kissed him, he'd wake up and be all better. Then Howard woke up to the fact he wasn't wandering - he was wanting.

He tore himself away from Vince's side for less than a minute, merely to grab the standard First Aid box that was kept in the kitchen cupboard below the sink. They'd never had to use it once, as most 'accidents' could be healed with a mere lazy wave of Naboo's wrist. Only this time, Howard didn't think of waking the shaman who was only a small hallway away. Once again, he felt he owed it to his friend. Not just for the amount of times Vince had saved his luckless life before. More so for the callous thoughts that had ran through his mind whilst driving to pick him up. How could he have ever thought of...? So no. He didn't get Naboo. Instead he got out the kit and took it back to the sofa where Vince remained spread out, still sound asleep.

Howard began setting to work on the worst of Vince's cuts and grazes. It looked like he'd been slammed against the brick wall a few times as well as punched, kicked and…Christ knows what else. Howard tried desperately hard not to picture any of it. The images that had flashed uncontrollably through his mind had been physically unbearable. He set to work with the bottle of ointment in the green box and placed his free hand to the back Vince's jet-black mussed-up coiffure, his other hand gently dabbing his open scars with the bits of cotton wool doused with ointment.

"_Argh!_" Vince let out a sharp cry, louder than any of the ones he'd let out in his sleep, as the liquid burned his already sore skin.

Howard's other hand held the back of his head; "Shh…shh…I'm sorry, little man. I know it ain't nice." He whispered softly to him, stroking his inhumanly soft hair, "But it has to be done, I'm afraid. It's just a little sting-" He went to dab the cut next to his eyebrow a second time.

"_ARGH!"_

Another cry. Howard was surprised he hadn't woken up their room-mates yet. He noticed tears of pain begin to leak from beneath Vince's sealed shut eyelids. They made Howard's own breathing struggle with guilt. He wanted to toss aside (well, pack away neatly) all the nasty ointment and just wrap his little friend up lovingly in his arms again. He wanted to hold him, rock him, apologize to him over and over again. Apologize for hurting him with ointment. Apologize for being unable to stop this happening in the first place. Apologize for yelling at him that previous morning for coming in late and hung-over. He hadn't meant to be angry. He hadn't meant to yell. Even though Vince had acted like he hadn't cared and had just insulted Howard back, it didn't matter. Howard just wanted his friend to smile again. He couldn't stand…_this…_what he was faced with now…not for much longer. It was just to damn hard.

It really needed to be done though. There was nothing else for it. So with a heavy heart, Howard continued dabbing Vince's wounds with the medicine, letting him suffer with each painful touch, Howard's may as well have been dabbing himself with a white hot fire-poker with the empathy he was shot with at each one of Vince's cries. He bit his bottom lip and just carried on his duty as best friend. A title, he realised, that only an hour ago he had been contemplating abandoning. For what? A few recent rows? Some bitter disagreements? Vince…his beautiful Vince was worth so much more than that. He was worth fighting for.

Vince began to stir properly for the first time since falling unconscious. He writhed onto his side, letting out another high-pitched moan, his face as scrunched as ever. He snivelled, though he wasn't crying. Yet. Howard continued tenderly stroking his hair.

"Shh…it's alright, Vince. You're safe now."

Vince's eyes opened, his lids working to separate the clumped smudged eyeliner and mascara sewing his eyelids together. He squinted through the inky blankness. Howard felt his heart leap into his throat at his friend, in a sense, coming back to life.

"Hey…" He smiled, his breath snatched away.

"Mmm….H'ward?"

Vince's voice was groggy and torn as if someone had run a razorblade through his vocal chords.

But Vince was awake.

"Yeah…I'm here, Vince. We're back home now. Safe and sound." Howard realised his sob-threatening voice must have made him sound like an old man on the verge of a meltdown. He didn't care.

Vince was awake.

The tired, smaller man shifted again on the sofa. His eyes were not half as big as they were supposed to be.

"H'ward…"

"What is it, Vince?"

He was on his knees, his right hand releasing the cotton wool and gripped reassuringly on Vince's arm covered by the jacket-blanket.

"H'ward, I…I…"

"Yes?"

"I…"

"Vince, tell me."

"I…think you're a fucking dickhead."

"..."

Howard blinked. _What?_

"A fucking useless waste of space…That's what you are. I mean who the 'ell likes jazz? Only retards and geeky old geography teachers who never got laid….Ha! Then again…you're only a fucking virgin, aren't ya Howard? God knows why, ey…You make me and rest of the British population wanna be _sick!…_There ain't enough vodka in the world to make you fancy-able, H'ward…"

Each nasty, venomous syllable twisted from Vince's snarled up lips were a chisel breaking away at the pedestal of affection and care Howard had placed himself on until that moment. By the last word he was slipping down. Tumbling through the cold night air towards the crushing ground below.

"Vince…I'm only-"

"Only what?…I'll tell you what you're only, H'ward…You're only good for one thing…An' that's makin' people like me look even more amashn'…" Vince was sniggering now, not even needing his cronies around him to take the sadistic pleasure in this moment. "Ova than that…you're just a freak with freak eyes, freak clothes, freak thin 'air an' a freak moustache…Why don't you just do me and the rest of the world a fucking favour and crawl right back to your cave, _Freak_?"

Howard's mouth hung open. His confused resolved crumbled in seconds. His eyes filmed over with tears. After all he'd done…after what he was still doing…Vince was being nastier than ever. Relentlessly cruel. Perfect, innocent Snow White had revealed herself merely as the cackling wicked queen in disguise. _What was the point? What was the fucking point? _He could feel the skin on his left arm start to itch; numb and desperate to feel. To suffer. To burn.

"Oh go on then…you big embarrassing lump o' shit…cry like you should. Cry like the wimp you are. Pathetic…Call yourself a _man_? Fucking **girl**."

As soon as the last words were hissed savagely out, Howard stopped himself crying. Something inside him had clicked. He straightened up, pulling his hand away that had been resting still on Vince's blanket and curled it up into a fist. He watched Vince's abnormally dark face, his eyes getting wider with anticipation of Howard's next move, whilst his teeth remained gritted together like a rabid dog preparing it's next attack. His eyes shot to Howard's clenched fist, and he gulped. He then went to look at Howard's face again, an even more savage smile slivering across his fractured face, raising his chin daringly. His whole facial composure cried two lustful words. _Do it. _

Howard shook his head slowly. He put down his fist and picked up the cotton wool piece again, dousing it with a fresh load of ointment, before resuming his old position. Even as he placed his hand back behind Vince's head and held the swab above his cheek, Vince was still looking at him as if expecting him to punch him. No - not expecting. Beckoning. He reeled back just as the cotton was about to come in contact with the weeping graze on his jawbone.

His brow furrowed angrily, "What d'you think you're playing at, you nonce?"

"I'm cleaning up your wounds, Vince, what does it look like?"

"Huh? Why!?"

"'Cause they're still a bit raw and might get infected. Now hold still-"

Vince flinched away from his touch again. He was looking at Howard as if he were a total stranger.

"But…you were gonna hit me?"

"No I wasn't, Vince. I was never gonna hit you."

"Yes you were! What, is this you wussing out, is it? Typical. You can't even hit me, ya sissy!"

"Why would I wanna hit you, Vince?" He tried to keep his tone as deadpan as possible. Huh, he was starting to sound like Naboo. Without the lisp.

"'Cause…Because I called you all those names just now!"

"You called me those names so I'd hit you?"

Vince's eyes widened, a rabbit caught in the headlights, "What? No. 'Course I didn't. I said them…'cause they're true! You ARE a freak."

Howard looked at him for a bit. Really looked at him. For the first time in months. He knew then why he'd been refusing to do so over the past months. Because now he was finally able to do it, really look at him, it just broke his heart worse then he'd ever feared it would.

"Ok Vince." He smiled casually, nodding. "Just so I know. Now hold still-"

"STOP IT!"

Vince finally snapped, wrenching his hands out from under the jacket and slapping Howard's hand so the cotton wool flew out of his grip and onto the floor. He propped himself up, glaring maliciously at Howard, the way you'd glare at your worst enemy. The way Vince normally glared at anyone who pinched his straighteners or dared to utter the name of Lance Dior. He was seething like a dragon. A dragon trapped in the body on overgrown pixie.

"STOP BEING NICE TO ME, YOU TWAT!" Vince was shrieking now, spitting his words out furiously. The whole of Dalston must have been able to hear him. "JUST FUCKING HIT ME. TELL ME TO PISS OFF. ANYTHING - JUST STOP _THIS!"_

Howard wanted to. By God, he wanted to.

"I'd never do anything like that to you, Vince. Why on earth would I?"

"'CAUSE YOU HATE ME!"

Oh, Vince.

"I never said I hated you-"

"YOU SHOULD! I HATE YOU! I'VE NEVER LIKED YOU. NEVER. NOT REALLY."

It was getting beyond a joke now. Not that it was anything to laugh at first of. Howard could see it, visible as the sparkles on Vince's glittery boots. His friend was fighting a losing battle. He was beginning to give in. It shined through his black-rimmed eyes. Howard could just see the tiny glint of blue hidden deep in there somewhere. Calling out to be saved. It's what drove him to continue.

Breaking a heart-wrenched smile, he touched Vince's face with his hand. As expected, the hysterically violent man slapped the hand away again.

"STOP TRYIN' TO TOUCH ME UP, YOU OLD QUEER!"

But Howard wasn't giving up without a fight either. He just reached out again. _Slap!_ And again. _Slap!_ Over and over with Vince growing every more frantic and loud, being the ever-feisty cockney bitch.

"STOP IT, HOWARD! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Vince…Vince, it's ok…" Not once did Howard raise his voice. It remained soft and low, balanced on the knife-edge of a whisper. "Vince. It's not your fault."

"NO!" Vince screwed up his face, now flailing his arms like he was trying to claw Howard away from him. "NO, JUST GET AWAY. I HATE YOU…I **HATE** YOU…I HATE...."

Howard grabbed his wrists, holding them still. Eventually they stopped writhing. Howard dared to lean his head forward towards Vince, murmuring gently to him; "Shh…it's alright. You can stop now…"

"BUT I JUST…YOU DON'T UNDERSTA-"

"Shhh…shhh. Hush now…It's over."

"I…I…"

Howard felt the strength dissolve from the smaller man's wrists and began to fold them gently against his knackared torso. Vince dropped his head back down. It was over. As soon as his head hit the cushions he burst into tears. He had been crying silently already without noticing, though Howard had, for some time. Now the tears came in heavy torrents, his chest wracking with sobs as he tried to bury his head away from sight. Though seeing Vince - calm, cool-headed, happy Vince - though seeing him crumble was disturbing to the say the least, Howard was so intensely proud of him. He continued stroking Vince's hair affectionately.

"That's it, Vince…that's it. Shh, there we go…it's ok. Just let it all out." He whispered, his chest both throbbing and warming at the same time.

Vince continued bawling, unable to form words, "…H'ward…M'so…"

"I know. I know, little man." Howard shuffled forwards and placed his own head down on top of Vince's, his hand moving to caress the younger man's cheek. "Rest now. It's all over...You're here with me now. I'll take care of you."

With that, Vince grabbed Howard's hand and held it to his cheek. The way a tot would clutch a beloved stuffed bear. When his sobs began to quiet themselves slightly, Howard pulled his head up from Vince's. He placed a soft kiss on his friend's precious hair before sitting back, his hand still trapped on Vince's cheek. The mod looked completely warn out. He was still snivelling and keening slightly, stray tears continuing to leak from his eyes. But he was falling. His violent shuddering quickly decreasing as the exhaustion began to take him. Howard could see it. Thank God.

Letting Vince cuddle his larger hand to him, Howard went back to stroking his hair with the other. "Just go to sleep, Vince. Go back to sleep…"

After a few seconds the sobs had stopped. So had the shaking. So had the struggling. Howard had watched the whole show, never taking his eyes away for a second. He'd watching with a massive thorn in his chest as his friend had battled with himself. It hadn't taken long for Howard to see through his words and realised the true plague in Vince's heart. His friend was a gifted actor. Most of the time anyway. But now he was drunk, knackered and beaten. And he'd tried to hard. He'd given himself away all to easily with his eagerness to push Howard away. Only this time, Howard hadn't fallen for it. And he'd had to do one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do and force Vince to break. He had no choice. It was either that or wait for the electro boy to combust. All this time he'd been a ticking time bomb until now. The tears were practically gone now. The battle was over. No winners or losers. Only survivors. And Howard couldn't stop looking in wonder at the tired, brave survivor in front of him, falling into a well earned rest.

Howard continued his calming mantra, "C'mon...go to sleep. Go to sleep…"

Vince opened his eyes a little; "H'ward…"

That was the Vince he knew and loved. Always did the opposite of what Howard told him.

All the same, Howard smiled, confident he wasn't about to receive another verbal bludgeoning.

"Yeah, little man?" He cooed.

Vince's lips twitched into a smile. A smile! Howard could scarcely believe his eyes. If enough tears hadn't been shed already that night, Howard would've cried.

"Mmm…_'little man'_…did I ever tell you me mum used to call me something similar?" He asked in a voice so small and precious you'd want to catch it in a special jar and keep it on the windowsill in the sunlight. His tantrum-come-breakdown before was quickly forgotten.

Howard shook his head slowly, "Nah, you didn't."

"She did…She called me her 'Little Star'…Vince Noir, Mummy's little star…" Vince was speaking exactly as if telling another one of his stories from his childhood. Only this was the first one Howard had heard him talk about his mum before. Ever. "'Course…I had to change it to Rock n' Roll star…less corny…an' better potential, y'know…"

"Is that right?" Howard indulged, endeared by the short tale. And the slow resurrection of Vince's character.

"'Was always her 'star' though…always…even though she left me…" He closed his eyes. He was nearly there. "…Just like they all do…All of them…Except you, H'ward…"

"Except me." Howard promised, still caressing his precious friend's sleepy head. The picture of the serene slumbering beauty returned. And, once again, Howard found himself aching to brush his lips against Vince's. "I ain't going anywhere. I'm staying right here…and I ain't gonna let you go. Not ever. I'll protect you...best I can."

"Mmm…'Cause you saved me...You're my he-......"

"Sleep now, luv…Just go to sleep…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_RUSS! Stop it! I won't let you hurt him anymore!"_

"_This is all your fault anyway! You were always to soft on the boy. You made him up to be this embarrassment. You just kept on smothering him, didn't you? Well we didn't have a daughter, Cordy, we had a SON! Or at least I used to have one before you went and ruined him."_

"_He is still your son, Russ-"_

"_THANKS TO YOU I HAVE NO SON! YOU'RE BOTH DEAD TO ME!"_

"_JUST LET US GO! YOU CAN'T STOP US!"_

_"OH YES, I FUCKING CAN. JUST WATCH ME WOMAN. I AIN'T LETTIN' MY CHEAP SLAG OF A WIFE JUST TAKE MY SON FROM ME!!"_

_"..."_

"_RUSS! NO!"_

"_GET OUT OF THE WAY, BITCH!"_

"_VINCE, RUN! JUST RUN, SWEETHEART, I'LL-!"_

"…"

"_Cordelia?!…Cordy?"_

"…_."_

"…"

"_Mum..? Mum, wake up! Please wake up! MUM! MUM!"_

"…"

"…"

"…"

"_See what you've done now, Vincent? D'you see what you've done? All you do is 'cause misery, boy. God knows why I didn't drown you at birth…the world would've been a much better place. And she would still be alive."_

"_M'sorry. M'sorry….m'so so sorry…."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Howard sat on the edge of his bed, watching his hurt friend toss and turn viciously into a restless sleep. He'd carried Vince off the sofa after he passed out the second time, into their shared bedroom and laid him down on his bed and removed his wet, torn and blood-spotted shirt. He'd thought of removing his jeans as well when he noticed they'd also suffered some rips in the knee caps, but thought better of it. He didn't want to risk the trauma of Vince waking up after such an experience to find someone completely undressing him. So the jeans stayed on whilst a thick plush purple blanket was wrapped tight around his naked arms and torso, replacing Howard's wet jacket. He had sat next to the sleeping mod and had cleaned up his wounds best he could. He had thought about calling Naboo, who was obviously out - having not woken up at the sound of Vince's scream earlier - but again thought it better to help his friend himself and not feel the need to disturb anymore people because of that horrible night. Vince had cringed and winced as his delicate skin was touched, but still didn't open his eyes. And Howard was thankful. He'd wanted his little friend to just rest and not have to worry or fear the monsters outside. He'd wanted him to drift off into his own private world of sunshine mountains and rainbow fields with Gary Numan as his guardian angel. After healing his friend's bruises and cuts, he'd sat back across the bedroom on his own bed and just perched himself there, watching the soft rise and fall of Vince's peaceful breathing.

Only now, after watching him for a good half an hour, not feeling the least bit tired himself, Howard had noticed the sleep was no longer so serene. Vince had curled himself up into a ball, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. Howard had turned the heating on so it was practically a sauna in the flat. Yet the electro boy was still beginning to shiver like he was on the verge of a fit. His face was contorted again. He began sleep-talking; whimpering out nonsense dialogue in his fevering sleep. It pained him to see his best friend in even more torment, even though the nightmare was supposed to be over. It seemed to be ongoing for Vince. Howard clenched his teeth. He almost wished he could use the shrinking machine he'd once been force to use to go inside Vince, to use it again to put himself inside the younger man's brain and fight away the demons haunting his dreams. Unfortunately, Naboo had had to return the shrinking machine to Ikea. Howard's mind though was still pondering on the word Vince had been just about to praise him with before falling asleep. _"You're my he..."_ Hero. He'd always wanted to be a hero. Not that he felt much like one. But being Vince's hero gave him such unexplainable feel of significance and self-worth. Two things that were normally so absent from Howard's lonely life. He didn't feel so lonely at the moment. Not with Vince just in the room. He just felt the need to keep being of some use to his friend. There was no spells on hand. No shrinking machine. Sighing, Howard realised he would just have to comfort his friend the old fashioned way.

He got to his feet and moved across the space between their beds to sit himself against Vince's headboard. He then tugged the smaller man onto his lap and held his head to his chest, using another arm to support his bony back to him, rocking him gently back and forth. With Vince back in his arms, everything felt complete again. Howard felt a hand grab a fistful of his sweater.

"M'sorry. M'sorry….m'so so sorry….M'sorry."

He looked down at his friend's pained face to see tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He couldn't stand it any longer.

"Vince. Vince, wake up. It's just a dream. Wake up now."

Vince's eyes flickered open. No mascara smudged to spoil the glint of his beautiful eyes as Howard had wiped it all off with a face-wipe. He stared up at Howard, a mix of confusion and wonderment, before turning his head to nuzzle his head against his chest, and burst into another round of cries. Howard's arms encircled him tighter.

"Oh God, Howard…M'such a twat. Such a useless, stupid twat!" He bawled to himself, letting the tears cascade down his cheeks, clinging ever more to his friend's sweater. In the same way he'd appeared to be trying to sink himself into the brick wall to hide back in the ally, he now seemed to be trying to hide against Howard.

"Don't be silly, Vince. You're not a twat." Howard only half-lied. Though he regretted his thoughts before, he still couldn't deny the events that breathed life to them.

"Yes I am…And M'pathetic and M'ugly…_M'disgusting_!"

Vince had moved his hands off Howard was now clawing them over his face as if trying to tear his features off. He dug his nails in deep enough to draw blood. Howard cringed in astonishment and horror at what the gorgeous boy was doing to himself. Hadn't his own body already been torn apart enough? How could he hate his own form so much to do that? To hurt his own body! It was as bad as…Oh. Howard's heart leapt up to his throat and he grabbed Vince's wrists, holding them away from his face whilst the younger man sobbed against his sweater.

He snivelled; "You should've left them to kill me, Howard."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"But it's true! It would've been better. It would've been better if I was never born…no one likes me."

Howard stifled an ironic laugh; "What you on about Vince? Everyone likes you. You've got more friends than Naboo's got weed and you've seen how big his stash is. It's like the wardrobe to Narnia."

Vince shook his head; "No. C'mon, Howard, you know it's true. I don't have friends. I have _fans_. Fans who loved me so much they all left me on my own tonight in the rain so they could go to the new club."

"They _what_?"

Howard tried to control his triggered fury. The last thing Vince needed was more chaos around him. But he promised himself that the second he next saw either Callum, Luca or Gerry he'd stab each one of them with one of Stationary Village's sharpest members of Pencil Market.

"An' then those guys started one me…I weren't even doin' anything'. I was just standin' there, Howard, 'onest!"

"I know, little man. I believe you."

"But they hated me…they kept sayin' they were gonna d-do things to me…th-things they s-said they'd do t-to any other 'whore' they bumped into. An' so…they dragged me down the ally-"

"You said they didn't do anything to you?"

Howard would never forget the chill that had run down his neck at the instant panic when he'd seen Vince on the floor of that ally with his clothes torn, cowering as if the perfect simplicity of his world had been brutally defiled. Which it still somewhat had. "They di-didn't. Not like that…They kept sayin' they would though. And they kept hitting me…an'…an' callin' me names….callin' me 'she' or…'it'….I kept tryin' to fight back but it just made it worse…An' I was so scared. I was so scared, Howard…" Vince's voice dissolved into heavy weeping.

"Shhh. Shhh, little man," Howard soothed, cradling Vince's head and stroking his hair. "You're alright. They can't touch you if you're here with me. I've got you. Y'shouldn't take any notice of what those arseholes said or did. You're safe and that's all that matters."

"M'not bothered about them so much…I've been in worse fights before…"

"Then what's this all about, ey?" Howard reproached softly, looking down at him.

"They just...What they kept sayin' to me....r-reminded me of..."

"Reminded you of what?"

He tried to pull back from Vince a little but the smaller man had slid his right arm around to Howard's back like a safety catch to stop anything from moving him away. His other hand was fiddling absent-mindedly with the loose threads on Howard's sweater. He at least managed to get Vince to look him in the eyes again. His crying had decreased as well. He was deeply relieved to see they'd regained some of their sparkle. Perhaps it was just the light improvement. Or perhaps Howard could fool himself into believing his presence really did mean something special to Vince.

"No one really likes me, Howard. They pretend to like me, just 'cause I'm Vince Noir an'…well I am pretty amazing' obviously…" Howard allowed himself a loving smile with his friend, brushing a strand of hair from his pasty face as he let him continue, "..but they only think I'm amazing' coz of my hair and my clothes. They don't like who I really am. They didn't like who I was when we were back at the zoo so I tried to change. Make myself up all pretty like. But they still think I'm ugly."

"Whoever said you were ugly?" Howard though they must have been worthy for the insane asylum. Vince didn't seem to hear Howard's question.

"They're right though…I am. Maybe not on my face…or my body or anything' - but I'm an ugly person. Inside I'm an evil, ugly, disgusting person who should just die…"

Howard had to grip Vince's wrist again before he so much as threatened to claw his face again. He made a silent vow to himself to never dare raising his own hand to his wrist again. Howard Moon was no hypocrite, sir.

"Stop this now. You ain't an ugly person, Vince. You're not disgusting or evil-"

"Oh just quit it, Howard!" Vince sat up, etching off Howard's lap and sitting back. "Why are you defending me? You should know better than anyone I'm nothing but a prick. Just look at how I've been treating you lately. We're meant to be best friends and I've been treating you like….like…oh, God!" He buried his head in his hands freely this time and Howard didn't attempt to stop him.

He was sitting back, more than a little stunned; "You…you've _known_ how you've been acting lately?"

"Of course I do! I don't just walk around in a fucking voodoo trance." Vince took his hands away from his face, revealing a pair of red eyes leaking tears at an unhealthy rate, "You don't think I don't remember breakin' your jazz record 'coz some punks toldme to? You don't think I don't wake up every day feelin' like a piece of shit 'coz I was willing to lose you over some stupid - though still genius - cape? An' everything else on top. I hate it.... I don't even mean to be nasty. I just do things coz…they seem funny and cool at the time. Then afterwards I realise they weren't funny. They hurt you…_I _hurt you. And it'salways to late to apologize 'cause it doesn't take back what I've done…But I am sorry, Howard. M'so sorry and I never wanted to hurt you, never…An' what I said before…it was just a wind-up. I just wanted to get at you….You were being so nice to me and I've been such a prick to you….I _**wanted**_ you to hate me. The way you should. The way I hate myself…"

Howard gripped Vince's forearms tight, bringing his face close to his. "I know, little man. Alright? I **know**." At least he did now. He caught some tears from his friend's face with his finger. "And I forgive you. Ok? I could never hate you. Never."

Vince's bottom lip twitched, "You should. You should hate me and get as far away from me as possible. I always end up destroying everyone around me. Just ask my dad."

"What you on about? Bryan worships you."

"No. Not Bryan. My _real_ dad." Vince said with utter disdain. "He'd tell you what I'm really like…what sort of person I really am."

"Vince, I've known you for ten years. I know you better than you know yourself."

"Really? D'you know that I killed someone once?"

He didn't.

Howard gulped, blinked and kept his mouth shut.

"Thought not." Vince grimaced. "But I did. I killed my own mum."

This was insane. No way was he hearing right.

Vince? A killer? Matricide even?

No way, sir. It just didn't seem plausible. Not Vince. Not _his_ Vince.

"H-how did…?"

"D'you really wanna know Howard?"

He had to know. He couldn't let Vince or himself leave the room without knowing. As much as it terrified him, he nodded.

Vince bowed his head, snivelling up some last stray tears; "See, Howard…My dad didn't like who I wanted to be very much. He thought wanting to be a rock star was a girlish fantasy. An' he thought workin' with animals was sissy to. And he didn't like how I dressed. He just didn't like me at all basically. He was a typical man's man. Wanted me to play footie like the other boys. But I was a mummy's boy, see. She was lovely. Cordelia Noir. Black haired beauty o' Corydon. An' it didn't bother 'er how I dressed or who I wanted to be. She never stopped loving me. In fact she always told me to always do what made me happiest. So I always 'ave. Dad 'ated that. So he started to hit me. Thought he could 'beat' the weak little girl out of his only son."

"Oh, Vince…" Howard faught the nagging desire to reach out and embrace his friend before he could finish his story.

"It weren't anything to harsh. Just lashings with his belt every morning before school and every night before dinner - it stung better if I was 'ungry. Or sometimes he'd just beat me round the face with his fists. Anyway, Mum eventually realised I weren't just 'bumping into doors' and she tried to get Dad to stop - then he started on her. In the end he was just hitting us both for the hell of it. Then, one day, Mum tried to get us to run away from him. We were upstairs on the landing of our house and Dad came home early, saw the suitcases, and blocked our way…Started screamin' that Mum was a whore and there was no way he was gonna let her take me away to have me more 'spoilt' then I already was."

The bitter self-loathing in his eyes. The atypical hushed shame of his voice. The stillness of his body - Vince was never still - it all added up to one living hell for Howard that he was all to ready to stand up and scream for salvation. This was something he'd never in a million years expected for sweet, child-like Vince to have lived through. God, Vince refused to acknowledge the credit crunch (he thought it was a new flavour of ice cream). Yet for god knows how long, since before Howard knew him, he'd been keeping this bottled up inside. It all just seemed, like the rest of night, like some implausible nightmare. Unable to truly taint the reality of their already surreal universe. However, it was true. And his best friend was reliving it to him now. All Howard could do was be there, be quiet and listen, Vince's voice breaking.

"…There was a struggle…He went for Mum and she told me to get past and go down the stairs to leave…He tried to stop her but she managed to get past him to and…she was about to run down the stairs…and then she…_tripped_."

Howard struggled to find words worthy. There were none.

Vince hesitated before continuing; "…She just lay at the bottom of the stairs. Right in front of me. Her neck was twisted an' she was looking straight up at me. An' not like she usually did…Not like when she'd call me her 'Little Star'…l-like she was scared. Like she was scared of me….Then Dad came down the stairs…an' he checked her pulse…an' that was it. I'd killed her…Not intentionally, but it was still my fault. Dad told me so. I'd killed my mum…"

Several tears slipped out again from under the small man's lids. Howard felt his own face to realise he was crying to. The stillness that hung between them in that moment was more painful then when Vince was actually speaking the words. Now they were sinking in like a mosquito bite. Howard opened his mouth, his throat dry as a bone. He'd never once thought to ask about Vince's real parents. The younger man always talked so fondly of Bryan, his animal chums and the forest that it seemed somewhat insensitive to say the parents who'd abandoned him were worth mentioning compared to the adoptive parent who'd loved and raised him. But then, one of Vince's parent's had loved him, and hadn't meant to leave him. And he was convinced it was all his own fault. Howard felt like he could be sick.

"…Vince. You have to listen to me, ok? You. Did. Not. Kill. Your. Mum." Howard spoke firmly to Vince but the electro boy just shook his head. "No you didn't. Alright, she tripped. Your father was just trying to pass his blame onto you because he knew he was the one at fault. If he hadn't been chasing your mother through the house then she wouldn't have tripped, would she?"

"B-but he wouldn't have been chasing her at all if I hadn't have been a freak-child!" Vince growled, gripping his raven strands furiously.

Howard grabbed his friend's wrists once again and held them in between them to force Vince look at him in the eye.

"Listen, Vince. You were not a freak-child. There's **nothing** wrong with you. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. You're unique and you're special. And you're such a nice person, Vince. You've got the biggest heart I've ever known when you ain't afraid to show it. When you don't hide it behind tryin' to be everyone's best friend and makin' everyone laugh without thinking. When don't try and push people away 'cause you think it's for the best. You ain't ugly. You're made of sunshine, for crying out loud! Everything that's bright and sparkly about you…it might annoy some people 'cause they're jealous - but it's just charming really. Look at you now…you ain't got a smudge of make-up on and…and you're perfect."

The gap between had somehow closed rapidly during Howard's speech. He noticed he was holding Vince's wrists close to his chest. The vibrations of his heartbeat were powerful enough to reach the mod's fingers. At least they reached Howard's. Suddenly realising the shocking rate of his own heart thumping away, not to mention the beads of sweat on his forehead, he pulled back from Vince slightly. The other man just kept on looking at him, obviously deeply touched beyond words by the speech.

Howard cleared his throat; "At least…I think that's what your mum would want you to believe. She loved who you were so much she wouldn't wanted you paying attention to your bastard of a father, would she?"

Vince slowly shook his head, his eyes now off as if on the verge of figuring out some thousand year old riddle. Or coming up with an idea for a genius new crimp.

"An' did your father get punished?"

Vince nodded. "He got seven years in prison for manslaughter and abuse. But he hung himself with the duvet cover his first night in the cells…Cowardly wanker."

"That's more like it." Howard risked a smile. He'd felt a swell of pride in his friend's returning spirit. Vince raised his eyes and smiled back. "Is that when you went to live with Bryan Ferry then?"

"Yeah. He was good friends with Mum. Think they might've been havin' an affair come to think of it. S'why I don't feel anything for the other bastard. It was always just how he made me feel...same as the others. But I stayed this way for Mum as well as me. I always have done...Bryan said she'd've been proud of me for bein' the way I wanted to be. So I've always through of him as ma proper dad...But yeah I moved into the forest with him when I was seven…and you've heard the rest a million times before."

"Yeah and I'll ask you tell me a million times again in the future."

He'd always adored Vince's stories. It was like being told the exclusive missing scenes from the Jungle Book. A drunken rock-star's psychedelic version of the Jungle Book that is. And in many ways Vince was so much like a Disney character. No wonder just before in the living room he'd been comparing him to Snow White. It was the truth. The whimsy and magic he brought to his being and everything around him could've made the greatest cynic in the world believe in fairy tales - by making life itself one big never-ending collection of fairy-tales.

"They wouldn't 'ave wanted me to be like this though." mused Vince quietly, wringing his hands together in his lap, "It's just that after we left the zoo it became so...so difficult. I kept on tryin' to hard and in the end it all I cared about was 'ow I looked and what people thought of me. It was alright at the zoo 'cause all we had were the animals an' they didn't care. Well, except for the tigers, they were right image-obsessed pricks! Didn't care about them though, they lived in a stinkin' cage where they had to lick their own private's clean, so they couldn't talk. An' the only other thing there was you....And you've never cared about that stuff...And you've alwasy been there. All that time I was focusin' on makin' more people like me and keepin' them liking me when I should've been focusin' on the only one who mattered."

Howard felt his heart skip a beat.

Vince raised his eyes again. His face had regained somewhat more of it's familiar light, but his eyes still threatened to tear up as he looked at the older man; "I still dunno why you put up with me, Howard. Alright, so I ain't a killer…but I ain't worth half as much as you make out."

"'Course you ain't. You're worth triple that, you electro ponce."

Vince opened his mouth release what seemed like half a laugh and a half a sob before he collapsed forward's into Howard's open arms that encircled him within a heartbeat, Vince shifting rightfully back onto his lap. He allowed himself to drop back into the soothing rhythm of the older man rocking him delicately, whilst he nestled his head against Howard's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his neck. The soft deep mewling sound arose again from Vince as he took comfort in the strong body holding him. He was clearly still a rush with emotions from the whole night's events from the binge-drinking to the attack to the breakdown just that moment. He let his hot tears fall shamelessly whilst Howard rubbed his back in small soothing circles.

Whilst massaging him, Howard breathed in the scent of his friend's product-doused hair. The scent of tropical fruits made him smile with contentment. Though he still was in shock at the weight of the confession Vince had just let out. Of course he wasn't ashamed of him. If anything he understood him better than he thought possible. It was just the thought of Vince living for all these years with such a burden on his mind, not being able to tell anyone, not even him…and they were supposed to be best friends. Then Howard remembered again his little self-discussion in the van before he'd found Vince. It seemed like a lifetime ago in comparison to everything after that kept flashing through his mind with every blink of his eye. He and Vince were no longer best friends…but that was before. Before Howard had learnt something new about Vince. Before he'd been reminded that he was still special to him; special enough to be confided in with such a dark and buried truth. Everything was put in perspective. If anything, he found his adoration for the mod was making his chest ache with every scent of his shampoo and every feel of his small, slender, sensual body.

They stayed hugging for a couple of minutes, both of them in silence, before Howard heard Vince whisper his name in the same sly, quizzical way he always did.

"Yes, little man?" He asked, looking down at him.

"What you said earlier…about what you reckon my mum would think of me…"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think that's really why people like me?"

"Yeah."

"About me being a sunshine person?"

"Of course."

"And…being beautiful?"

"….Yeah."

Vince grinned up at him, his eyes sparkling back to life; "And being _perfect_?"

"Oh, well…Err," Howard blushed. "Probably went a bit to far there. Don't wanna let it go to your head, sir."

"That's what you think though."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did!" Vince broke a giggle, moving his arms off Howard's neck and wriggling onto his back so he was basically lying in the Northerner's arms. "…You're perfect, Howard. Even though you like jazz. And wearin' stupid clothes…You're still perfect to me."

His face practically aflame, Howard shook his head embarrassed, causing Vince to giggle again.

"I'm only perfect if you're perfect too, Howard."

"How does that work?"

"You know how it works. Me and you. Two halves of a whole cherry pie. Well, my side's cherry, you're sides…just more crust." He laughed again, forcing the maverick to break a smirk. "But we complete each other. Don't we. S'why I don't care about what other people think. Not really. Just you."

Howard's cheeks were tinted pink. He was starting to regret turning the central heating up. Vince saw his embarrassment and just widened his grin. He reached a hand up and drew his index finger across Howard's cheek, following the lines of his jawbone as if captivating the memory of his face.

"And you like me…Don't you, Howard." It wasn't seductive. It was pleading; "D'you like me? D'you _really_ like me…?"

Howard grinned down at the electro boy cradled contently his arms - hair dishevelled, skin nicked and scarred, right eye inflamed slightly, skin pale as chalk…and eyes bright as sapphires. He really didn't have a clue, did he? Vince Noir really was incredible - but it didn't stop him from being unbelievably slow, almost blind, to some things. For him to believe, or anyone to try and convince him, that he was anything other than a miracle was surely a travesty. He needed to know just how incredible he was. He needed to know just how much he made Howard's heart dance out-of-character with a mere smile or jaunty movement - that made him want to do things to him that just broke the entire rule-list of best-friend & best-friend. It didn't matter anymore. He was tired of pretending. Howard clutched his friend's tired body to him once more into the tightest of all possible hugs, his lips pressed to whisper his answer again before his heart burst through his rip cage;

"I love you."

He then buried his lips in Vince's precious mane and kissed a spot of his hair, adoring the fluffy texture of it against his face as he held him close.

Vince's hands moved to Howard's shoulders and pushed him back slightly. Howard was off-put to see that Vince was no longer smiling. The bright cheeriness of the moment had all but vanished with just three little words said in the heat of the moment. Howard felt his mouth go dry. Oh God. He'd just killed the moment. He'd just tore down everything they'd rebuilt in their relationship.

"Vince…I-"

"I heard what you said. It's ok." Vince said softly, his hands on Howard's face again. "I mean you've told me before, haven't you?"

A memory both treasured and cringed at in Howard's brain. Almost three years ago. _Three years?_ Had it been that long? That long he'd been silently in love with his friend? Back then it hadn't been 'in love'. Just love. The love of two friends with nothing solid in the world except each other. To go to the ends of the world. It was all coming back to him. The near-freezing experience. The stickleback crimp. The confession. The humiliation. And now here he was going with it all again, with so much more on the line this time round, it was still the same. Except-

"You're not laughing." Howard frowned.

Vince wasn't even smiling. Not with his lips anyway. He pushed back a fallen loose chocolate-brown curl from Howard's moist forehead.

"This time it's not so funny."

It never had been. Never to Howard.

Once again, time proved it was on the blink, as it shut down again. In such a different way to experience of finding Vince in the ally. There was no horror. No longing for time to rush forward. In fact he wanted time to stay still. He wanted him and Vince to stay in this moment forever.

Vince's hands were on his face, his eyes drinking him in and Howard's doing the same back. This wasn't like in the Tundra. This wasn't a last-minute confession spurred by the fear of death. This was just the two of them, not having to prove anything to time and fate. Just the two of them, alone, holding each other as if the world could fall apart at any moment - even though they both knew full well it was firm and solid as always. Only Vince was his world. And the thought of him destroyed meant Armageddon. Except, he wasn't damaged by Howard's feelings as feared. Nor were they just a joke to him…at least that's not what his eyes were saying. They were saying that he wanted him. Really wanted him. No shock. No joke. It was all there, clear as day presented up, nice and so very shiny, up to Howard. Vince was licking his lips, his eyes jittering between staring into Howard's and looking at the other man's lips. He wanted it. And, oh dear sweet God, did Howard want it too. He'd _always_ wanted it. He let out a hushed gasp, the electricity sizzling inaudibly between them, causing his hands to shiver. He put his hands to the mod's thin waste, somehow calming the nerves pulsing through his wrists, slipping them around his back and pulling him close enough that he could feel Vince's hot breath on his neck. They looked at each other, into the glow of each other's faces, their noses close enough to-

"Hold on a minute!"

It was Howard that broke the moment.

"What?" asked Vince, taken aback.

"'_You're not laughing.' 'This time it's not so funny??_"

Vince shrugged, "Yeah?"

"That's a quote from _Friends_, you berk!" Howard chided, dropping his hands from Vince's waist.

The mod thought for a moment, his single brain cell in full working force, before the look of sudden realisation spread over him with the stretch of his trademark mega-watt grin and star-bright eyes.

"Ah yeah! I watched E4 before I went out last night." Vince remembered, reviving his bubbly old self.

"Well you can't use that!" Howard exclaimed.

"Can't use what?"

"You can't use other couple's quotes for our kissing scene!"

"Why not? It was a good one. It fitted in well. And no one's gonna notice are they, it ain't like we attract the same type of audience. If anyone does then we can just say we're playing a tribute!"

"No. You're not saying you're going in to kiss me using a line someone else used."

"Well what d'you want me to say?"

Howard sighed, "Never mind. The moment's ruined now anyway. Just forget it. It's useless."

"Aww, Howard, c'mon don't be like that."

But Howard had already moved off the bed and got to his feet. Vince followed, ignoring the discomfort in his bruised muscles, crawling off the bed.

"Look, Howard, it can still work. It's us, innit? It's all supposed to happen-"

"No it's gone to pieces. The build-ups gone. Just forget it-"

It was worse than the Tundra. It was worse than the rooftop catastrophe. It was typical Howard Moon vs. sods law was what it was.

Dejected, he turned his back to Vince, his hand already rolling up the sleeve of his left arm without so much as his mind's notice. Howard Moon wasn't a hypocrit. But he wasn't good at keeping promises much either. His skin was once again yearning for that sharp sting to bring it a dose of life. It would have to keep on waiting, however, as Howard found himself being spun back around by the hands of his Jagger-worshipping room-mate, faced with a pair of stunned and knowing wide blue eyes shooting from Howard's face to his arms.

"What you doin'?" He exclaimed, sounding upset again. Howard just looked away before those eyes threatened to swallow him whole.

"S'nothin'..."

"No it ain't _snothin_, Howard." Vince said firmly, grabbing Howard's wrists, holding them apart. He was clearly mimicking the older man's actions to him earlier, "I hate it when you do that to yourself! Yeah, I know I took the piss an' laughed at you but...it's really wrong. You shouldn't 'urt yourself 'cause of me or anything else. An' it is partly me that drives you to it, isn't it? I know it is! That's also why I wanted you to twat me one before...Anythin' other than just let you carry on with this. You can't go on about me bein' beautiful and appreciatin meself and then you go and do something like that! I mean what 'appens when you get sick of just burning yourself and start lookin' at the kitchen knives, ey?"

"Vince, don't be silly, I'd never-"

"I don't care. I don't ever wanna see you hurtin' yourself again! For fuck's sake, Howard...how am I supposed to believe in me own self worth if you don't see yours? 'Cause you don't do you? You don't see just how handsome you really are." Vince's gaze shone over Howard's short loose curls and the intense darkness of his eyes. "An' how _good_ a person you really are as well, when you're not freakin' people out by tryin' to 'ard or bragging about things you ain't really done. You honestly don't see any of the billions of things I see in you, do you?"

Not even Howard's own usual vanity could rise to the occasion. Howard shook his head, his eyes down, "Thanks Vince, but it's just not-"

The maverick felt a hand grip his chin. Howard forced to look into the once again serious as stone face of Vince Noir. Smiling with his eyes, not his lips. Some sort of power in them was sealing him to the spot and refusing to let him look away from the beautiful doll-like face looking up at him. Vince put his hand up to the collar of Howard's shirt and gripped it hard.

"Now you shut up. You just SHUT UP and listen to me, Howard T.J Moon. I 'ave spent the last ten years at your side. I 'ave put up with your grating whinging and vein little speeches, your obsession with jazz and fixation with women who would never really mean anything to you. I 'ave stuck by you through all your little insane missions, saved your arse GOD knows how many times, slept in the same room as you every night, put up with your snoring, your eyesores of clothes, your freaky no-touching rule and I've snogged you once on this very roof above us now. I 'ave also just poured my fucking heart out to you about the most painful time of my life that I've never told anyone else in the whole world - and you need some corny sitcom-style chat up line to convince you of how I feel about you?"

Howard didn't reply. He was actually scared. As well as humbled, touched, warmed…still bloody scared.

"How about just this then?" Vince gripped his face again, his eyes watering slightly from the returning intensity; "You saved me. You found me. Not just tonight. You made me feel loved - really loved and appreciated - for the first since my mum died. You pulled me out of the darkness and into the sun - I'm the sunshine kid because of you. You're my hero. I need you. I love you."

"…"

Vince gulped; "That better?"

"…"

Howard threw his arms around the soppy Camden prince, giving him his answer. Putting his hand to the back of Vince's hair, he pulled him into the deepest, most loving kiss he'd had ever experienced. Vince threw arms around Howard, his fists clawing at his shirt as he tried to grip every bit of the older man's body to his, never wanting to part. Vince felt his feet dangle above the floor as Howard held him up slightly to take him all in, hands moving through the precious black mane without a single complaint. The kiss was so much better than the one on the roof. This was Howard taking control - and, what he guessed from Vince's pleasurable moaning, he was a natural. He felt his skinny arms slipped around the maverick's neck as the kiss softened slightly, remaining ever more sweet and sensual. He wanted to wrap the electro boy up tight in his embrace where he could never be hurt again.

Even when the kiss ended, they couldn't release each other. They'd fall back on Vince's bed, the wind knocked out of them both from the night, grinning like the messed-up besotted idiots they were, their eyes watering with the overload of emotions released in their small flat. The rush of love finally free to sing itself out from the jazz maverick's eyes deserved it's own c-d. It didn't entirely put out the reminders of what other truths had been released into the ether that night. Instead he realised the two would work well together. He could be as protective, as nurturing, as devoted to keeping his friend safe and loved as much as possible without having to justify it to anyone, especially Vince. And he would make sure, every day, the mod was reminded of how safe and loved he truly was. How beautiful he was. And in return, Vince would keep that look on his face that he was giving Howard in that moment - the look of the innocent, cheeky, adorable man he feared less then four hours ago that he'd lost. The look that reminded him that he was special. That he was needed and appreciated. He, also, was loved. Even if just by Vince - that meant more than the world. It was the world.

It didn't even occur to Howard that, the next morning, it was just as possible that the hangover would kick in and Vince could return to his obnoxious, selfish, spiteful character all over again. Everything that had been established that night - gone. It didn't occur to Howard because he knew it wasn't going to happen. He had something tonight that had been missing from the other nights. Not just the promise of protecting and adoring Vince. Not even the taste of the kiss that would linger in his mouth forever. Tonight he had something else, restored to him that night. Faith. They would stay together. They just would. They even fell asleep, both at the same time, minds and bodies in perfect sync. Just like before. Two halves of whole, now combined. Not a film-star couple, but still a couple. Not Romeo & Juliet (or Ross & Rachel) - just Howard & Vince. Not witchcraft - but still magic. Huh, turned out it was more than just a fairy tale after all.

**_Let it slide,  
Let your troubles fall behind you  
Let it shine,  
Until you feel it all around you  
And I don't mind  
If it's me you need to turn to  
We'll get by,  
It's the heart that really matters in the end _**

**_All of my regret  
Will wash away some how  
But I can not forget  
The way i feel right now_**

**_Our lives are made  
In these small hours  
These little wonders  
These twists & turns of fate  
Time falls away but these small hours  
These little wonders still remain - _Matchbox Twenty "Little Wonders"**

* * *

**Oh...kay...**

**So yeah, that's my two-part angst-fest special. Hope you enjoyed :) I'm not very good at ending fics and I just went with the flow on this one. Anyway, Reviews for this would be pure Love. And even if you don't review (for shame) thanks so much for bothering to read this drivel anyway. **

**With love and raspberry bootlaces,  
Rose xx**


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